


Show & Tell

by Sed



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 07:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Winzler! Also loosely based on her Reset universe.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Show & Tell

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Winzler! Also loosely based on her Reset universe.

“I’d like to see your penis.”  
  
Sam sputtered and choked on the glass of pale blue energy he’d been nursing since they sat down at the bar. He swept the back of his hand across his chin and looked at Tron—or Rinzler. It was hard to tell sometimes. He did a quick sweep of the nearby programs to ensure that none had heard the awkward request. “ _What?_ ”  
  
“I’d like to see your p—” Sam cut him off with a frantic hiss and no small amount of wild flailing.  
  
“I heard you, okay? I just—why the hell are you asking to see my—why are you asking that?” He leaned forward conspiratorially, trying to minimize the risk of someone overhearing their conversation through the thump and buzz of the music filling the club.  
  
Tron didn’t seem to pick up on Sam’s embarrassment. He pushed ahead with his request at normal volume. “I understand that users are able to self-stimulate. It intrigues me, and I’d like to watch.”  
  
“You… what?”  
  
“I would like to watch you cycle your own energy. Observationally. I’m not asking for anything indecent.” He turned and took a sip of his own drink, looking around the club as though nothing awkward had transpired between them. “So?”  
  
“So? Tron—you’re—yes, that is _very_ indecent, okay? I can’t even th— _what?_ ” Sam was having a lot of trouble forming the words he needed to explain just how much he didn’t want to have any part of Tron’s request.  
  
Unfortunately his hesitance only spurred Tron’s curiosity further. “I don’t understand the problem. Could you explain it to me?”  
  
 “Dude? Okay. It’s like asking me to jerk off for you,” Sam said.  
  
“That’s exactly what I’m asking.”  
  
Sam stared, dumbfounded. “How do you even know what that—nevermind, just… nevermind. Look, I’m not doing that. Ever. Why would you even ask me? Are you—do you like me or something?” He had to admit, Tron was a pretty good looking guy. Like Alan, but younger. Come to think of it, Alan wasn’t too bad either. He slammed the door on those thoughts the moment they made their way toward the front of his mind.  
  
“Of course I like you, Sam,” Tron said. “We’re friends. That’s why I came to you first. I could ask one of the other users, if you’re uncomfortable.”  
  
“What? No! Don’t ask anyone else! Look, maybe it’s different for programs, but you don’t just ask people to drop their pants and whip it out for you. Well, some people do, but that’s… that’s something else. Anyway why users? Why not just ask another program if you’re curious?” He never thought he’d be the one using _that_ word; just thinking about the number of times his grandmother had muttered about how it was “natural to be curious” made Sam’s face and ears grow hot. This was not the sort of thing he’d ever expected to encounter on the Grid.  
  
“Users are uniquely able to cycle energy within themselves, with beneficial effects. This is unheard of in programs, I would like to see how it’s done. I understand the logistical aspects are probably the same, but it seems like there would have to be something different that enables you to benefit from your own energy—programs require at least one partner to form a connection. You can imagine, then, how strange it is that users are able to do so with themselves.” He finished and looked at Sam expectantly, as though that explained everything, and Sam would suddenly acquiesce.  
  
Sam’s brow wrinkled in confusion and his mouth opened and closed a few times. “What? Wait, _at least_ one?” Unbidden images of program orgies flashed through Sam’s mind, but he quickly dismissed them. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to, either.  
  
Tron looked down, and Sam recognized it as the same look he wore whenever he was trying to relate his own knowledge to user terms. It rarely worked out well. “It’s like trying to eat your own food, after you’ve already eaten it.”  
  
“Oh god man! What is _wrong_ with you? If you’re trying to hit on me that is not the way to do it.” The worst part was, Sam knew that Tron had probably learned that analogy from his father. The horrible, horrible implications branching out from that one thought made his stomach twist. “Can we drop this, please?”  
  
“Alright,” Tron said, nodding. He turned back to his drink and nodded to a familiar program across the bar.  
  
Sam wasn’t sure he could so easily reset his thoughts, though. He stared down at the glowing white counter, watching the lights pulse softly, thinking about what Tron had said. So programs couldn’t get off on their own? Or they could, but it wasn’t… beneficial? He wasn’t sure what Tron had meant by that. In truth, Sam had never really thought very much about the details, he had just sort of gotten down to business. Stressful days, boring days, days between hookups, rainy days… He wondered what it would have been like, sitting around feeling tense and horny, not being able to get off without someone else. “So you want to see if you can figure out how to do it on your own?” he asked, regretting the topic as soon as he revived it.  
  
“If possible. It probably isn’t.”  
  
There was a long moment of awkward silence, and then Sam sighed. “I’m only doing this because I feel for you.”  
  
Tron clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. Something in Sam turned over, but not in a bad way. He set that aside to be examined never. “Let’s find somewhere private, then,” Tron said.  
  
Sam nodded. He was sure there was no way he wouldn’t end up regretting that decision.  
  
  
  
“Why am I doing this?” Sam muttered to himself. He knew Tron would be able to hear it, but he didn’t really care. The man was putting him through what would probably turn out to be the worst and most embarrassing mistake of his life. His opinions didn’t matter at the moment.  
  
“I really appreciate it, Sam,” Tron replied. They were sitting on a long lounge—not really a couch, but not a bed, either. It was more like a bench, Sam decided. He played with the reflective white piping that framed the borders of each cushion, plucking at them and trying not to look at Tron.  
  
“So…” the program said with a sigh, letting the silence stretch between them. “I suppose I should give you the seat.”  
  
“What? No, I’ll sit up. Is that weird? What am I asking, this is _all_ weird.” Sam dropped his head into his hands and laughed. Why was it so strange? A small but insistent voice in the back of his mind seemed awfully intent on comparing Tron to everyone else he’d ever been intimate with, wondering why _they_ were alright, but Tron gave him pause. It wasn’t exactly the first time he’d put on a show for someone, and it probably wouldn’t be the most awkward. Was it because they were friends? Because Tron looked like Alan? Neither of those seemed to bother him as much as it just being _Tron_ did.  
  
Tron stood and moved in front of Sam, far enough away to offer him some personal space, but close enough to see what was happening. He didn’t sit, which, Sam supposed, made sense given that he didn’t have to. “Okay, so,” Sam began, slowly reaching down to touch his suit. It wasn’t like taking off his pants—he couldn’t imagine how to be sexy about it. Why he was even _trying_ to be sexy about it was something he didn’t want to spend too much time considering. Tron reached forward and Sam jerked his hand away. “What?”  
  
“I can do it for you? I—that seems like it might help? Or not.”  
  
 _Great time to start getting nervous, Tron,_ Sam thought. He shook his head and waved the program off. “It’s not that, I just, I don’t really know how to do this without just,” he made a quick gesture over his abdomen, “doing it.”  
  
“Go slow,” Tron offered. He cleared his throat and looked to the side when Sam shot him a glance. “I meant just take your time.”  
  
Sam nodded and shook his arms a bit, prepping himself for the challenge. He took a deep breath and placed the tip of one finger against the dip in his stomach. The pixels fluttered and retracted under his touch, mimicking his slow caution as they folded onto themselves and disappeared. He heard Tron make a noise and stopped. “What?”  
  
“Start higher up,” Tron said.  
  
Sam could feel that same twist deep down at his core, like his stomach was trying to turn over on itself, but in a way that almost felt _good_. He swallowed and looked down, raising his hand to his chest and derezzing the material there, instead. It always amazed him that the armor plates, which had been attached manually at first, separate from the bodysuit’s base, would disappear with the hexagon-speckled, skintight fabric. As the chest plate melted away under his touch, he felt the same distant fascination.  
  
“That’s good,” Tron muttered, sounding a bit more hoarse than Sam expected. He ignored the hollow sensation in his chest and the ache decidedly lower, and continued down until his fingers grazed already-bared skin. The gloved tips tickled across the hair that made its way down the center line, growing coarser as it approached his groin. He stopped just shy of where things would get really racy. “What’s wrong?” Tron asked.  
  
Sam wasn’t sure how to explain that he was already hard. “Uh, nothing,” he muttered. He made a split-second decision to just go for it, and reached down between his legs, dragging his fingers up and over the bulge in his suit, wiping away the material almost all at once. Completely bare, he felt a lot less bold, and tried to close his legs—not that it would do any good.  
  
“Don’t.” Tron stepped closer. Sam looked up, and for a moment they stared at each other. “Just let me see it for a moment. Please.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah okay,” Sam replied. Tron knelt in front of him, and Sam had to lean back on his hands to put any sort of distance between them. He could see the program taking in every detail, probably memorizing the exact length—something Sam could have told him, as he’d measured himself enough times to be pretty sure within the millimeter.  
  
“Programs are realistic, but not this detailed,” Tron marveled. He sat back on his heels and looked up again. “Please continue.”  
  
Without leaning forward again Sam lifted one hand and reached for himself. His own fingers wrapping around the hot, rigid shaft made him exhale quickly. It felt good, very good, and he hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d given his dick any attention. A tiny sound escaped him, and Tron perked up. He lifted himself to his knees and put his hands on either side of Sam, watching intently. “Dude,” Sam said, “that’s a little close.”  
  
Tron backed away. “Sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine I just don’t want to hit you, if you know what I mean.” He waited, but apparently Tron _didn’t_ know what he meant. “When I come? If we’re going that far.” The awkward factor kicked itself up to eleven, then. He hadn’t thought to ask just how much Tron wanted to watch. “Nevermind. Sorry.”  
  
“No, don’t be. What are you talking about?”  
  
Sam wished he hadn’t said anything—not least of all because it was not helping to do a Q &A while he tried to stroke himself off. “Ejaculating? You know, semen? Do you guys even have that?”  
  
“Oh, well, in a sense,” Tron said, nodding.  
  
Sam decided to be honest. “Okay. This isn’t helping.”  
  
Another quick nod from Tron, and the curtain of silence descended again. Tron watched as Sam pumped his fist up and down for a few minutes, taking in every twitch and looking thoughtful as Sam’s cock grew harder. When it seemed Sam had hit his peak size, he asked, “What do you think about?”  
  
Sam froze. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. “Lots of stuff? Sometimes you know… tits? Um, sex… things like that.” He was in no way willing to share that, at the moment, his mind was a total blank, and the sheer thrill of being watched was making him hard as a rock. It wasn’t something he’d anticipated. Desperate to avoid further discussion about his own thoughts, he reached for the first question he could come up with. “What are you thinking of?” _Stupid, Sam. Very stupid._  
  
Tron seemed almost eager to answer, though. “I’m fascinated by the shape, the way your skin moves, the dark lines just under the surface… I didn’t know users had circuits.”  
  
“They’re not circuits, man, they’re veins.”  
  
“I see.” He didn’t look like he understood, though.  
  
Sam pushed for more. He wasn’t sure why. “You ever done this?”  
  
“Yes, but like I said, it doesn’t benefit programs,” Tron reminded him. He had leaned forward again, and his hands were close to Sam’s thighs. The proximity was sending little waves of shock up Sam’s body.  
  
“Tell me about it.”  
  
Tron leaned down to watch more closely, and Sam could feel the warmth of his breath, the heat of the pale blue circuits that circled his collar. “Well,” he began, “it’s much like this, only I don’t move as fast.”  
  
“Okay,” Sam said, and he made an effort to slow himself. “What else?”  
  
“Sam I—I can’t really… recall more detail at the moment.” Tron was leaning so close, and Sam could swear he saw a wave of violet wash over his circuits before they faded back to blue. All it would take was a push, he realized. Just one push, and Tron’s lips would be against the tip of his cock. He wondered how the program would react to that. “Stop,” Tron ordered.  
  
Sam froze. “What?” There was no way Tron could have known what he was thinking. He hoped.  
  
“Maybe you should lie down.”  
  
“What? Why?”  
  
Tron looked up at him, his eyes were dark and glassy. “Lie down, Sam,” he ordered quietly.  
  
Sam didn’t need to be told again. He turned and leaned back against the seat, still stroking his fist along the curved span of his erection. Tron nodded and bent down over him, hands on either side of the lounge, still staring intently at the rise and fall of Sam’s hand, and the hard length trapped beneath his shaking fingers. Sam kept his knees up at first, and then let his feet slide down, only to raise them again.  
  
“Sam, relax,” Tron urged. He placed a hand on one of Sam’s knees and pushed it down again. Sam nodded and turned his head to the side. It was awkward enough without seeing the intense gaze Tron had fixed on his cock. Making it worse was how hot it made Sam whenever he thought about it. “This is amazing, Sam,” Tron said. He lowered himself onto the lounge, kneeling on either side of Sam’s legs. His hands were still flat on the cushion beside Sam’s hips. “Tell me what you’re thinking about now.”  
  
He looked up, and Sam made the mistake of meeting his eyes—those rich blue eyes that felt like they could consume him if he looked for too long. The flutter in his stomach started again, and he felt his inhibitions go slack. He turned to the side, trying to hold in something that every logical cell in his body said should remain in his head. His breath quickened, his body tightened, and he felt like his entire being was suddenly spring-loaded and ready to explode. “You!” he said, the word nearly bursting from him. The instantaneous wave of regret that flooded through him halted like it had hit a brick wall when he looked back and saw the unreserved desire on Tron’s face. “Tron?”  
  
“Sam, I… can I touch you?”  
  
Sam felt like the world had dropped out from beneath him. “Fuck _yes_ ,” he hissed, arching up toward Tron. The reaction from the program wasn’t what he had expected, but it wasn’t at all unwelcome, either. Tron leaned down with his mouth open, letting his tongue rest against the tip of Sam’s cock. “Oh wow,” Sam said breathlessly. The heat of Tron’s tongue was almost enough to push him over the edge. In the back of his mind he thought about informing him that touching and licking were two completely different things, but that was soundly dismissed as Tron lowered himself so that his chest was pressed against Sam’s legs, and brought his hands up to gently massage Sam’s thighs. It wasn’t like any blow job Sam had gotten before, mostly because Tron wasn’t moving; he was letting Sam jerk off against his tongue, and somehow _that_ was the most erotic thing he had ever experienced.  
  
He lifted his head and watched, and Tron watched right back.  
  
“Shit man, this is—Tron, you should move, soon,” Sam panted. He was stroking faster, hand gliding over his cock with practiced rhythm and pressure. Tron didn’t move, though. He stared at Sam and dug his fingers in, urging the user on. It was too much, and with a shout Sam threw his head back, hips jerking as he came. He grabbed at Tron with his free hand. The program waited, body still, and Sam lifted his head to see the aftermath. His chest heaved and his stomach rose and fell quickly, and past that, was Tron. His mouth was still open, tongue showing the unmistakable evidence of Sam’s orgasm. Most of it lay in a mess around Sam’s legs and hand. Most of it.  
  
Tron sat up and closed his mouth. Sam felt his face flush at the sight of the program’s throat working, swallowing what he had caught. “You have a bit… on your, yeah,” he said as Tron wiped his hand across his mouth. “Sorry.”  
  
“Don’t apologize, please,” Tron said. “I think things got a little out of hand. We may have lost sight of the purpose of this exercise.”  
  
Sam laughed hard at that. “You think?”  
  
“I do. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”  
  
“Nah, it’s fine. I mean, well, it is what it is, right?” The giddiness of his orgasm had Sam willing to forgive almost anything for the moment. Sure, it was quite possibly the most abnormal experience of his life, but he couldn’t say it hadn’t been fun. He looked down at Tron again and noticed the program shifting uncomfortably where he was kneeling across Sam’s legs. He knew that maneuver. Letting his eyes roam further south, he saw the obvious bulge in Tron’s suit. “Well,” he said, licking his lips and darting his eyes back to Tron for a second, “maybe we didn’t figure out exactly what you wanted, but we _did_ learn about user-to-program interfacing.”  
  
“That is true,” Tron agreed. A coy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Although,” he paused, “there’s no way to be sure the reverse arrangement would work.”  
  
“No,” Sam said, playing along. “Not without proper testing.”  
  
Tron smiled and wiped a hand over his suit, baring himself for Sam. “We should get started, then.”


End file.
